She’d never seen him react so joyously to the news of her staying with them before. Did that mean she could hope that his time away at university had caused his feelings for her to blossom?
“Yes, yes,” Mrs. Pratt said, interrupting Meg’s thoughts, “we are all pleased she will be staying with us again. But do not think you can talk your way out of speaking with me, Matthew. You know I am displeased with your decision to hide away instead of performing your duty and dancing with the women in attendance.” She turned to Meg, her brow smoothing. “And you ought to be dancing, as well, dear Meg. You worked too hard on that costume to waste it away in a dark corridor with my idle son.”
She shot an accusatory look at Matthew, who responded with feigned offense. Meg fought off another laugh.
“Now go,” Mrs. Pratt gently urged. “Find a partner worthy of your attention while I deal with this dilatory son of mine.”
Meg hesitated. The last thing she wished to do was leave Matthew, but as Mrs. Pratt gave her one final, encouraging nod, she sighed. “Yes, ma’am.”
She curtsied to the three of them then turned to depart. Mrs. Pratt did not wait to reprimand her son, her words reaching Meg’s ears as Meg walked away.
“I am disappointed in you, Matthew,” she said. “Tonight, your duty is to dance, not hide away. You may behave however you wish when you return to Oxford after Twelfth Night, but until then, you must do what…”
The words faded as Meg reached the dance floor. She wasn’t sure if the brightness of the lights or Mrs. Pratt’s words caused her head to ache the most.
Matthew was returning to Oxford. He would be leaving, again.
The hope she’d felt that night slunk back into the cage within her heart. Of course he would return to university. What reason had he to remain in Yorkshire?
Still, at the mere thought of him leaving again, panic clutched at her throat with iron fingers. How would she manage saying goodbye to him? How could she bear the coming months living with her feelings, all the while knowing nothing of his own?
She glanced over her shoulder, the white of Matthew’s mask glinting in the darkness as he listened—or rather, didn’t listen—to his mother.
Two weeks was not long to ascertain his feelings, nor to fully understand her own. But Matthew himself said she was persistent. She could do this. She would do this. No matter how staggering the task, and no matter the outcome.
* * *
Matthew watched Meg disappear around the corner before he returned his attention to his mother.
“And then to keep poor Meg in here when she ought to be dancing? I thought I raised you better than that, son.”
He blinked, trying to keep up with the conversation. A difficult task when his friend the doe looked so fetching that evening. In her defense, she always looked attractive.
Mother was right. He shouldn’t have been keeping Meg with him when she really ought to be enjoying the masquerade. Yet, he couldn’t chide his decision to take a moment alone with her. He’d missed her since saying goodbye October last, and he’d miss her again when the time came to return to university, but such was life.
“Are you listening to me?”
“Yes, Mother. I always listen to you.”
She stared at him with jaded disbelief.
“I am,” Matthew insisted, leaning against the side of the wall with his shoulder as he folded his arms.
He attempted nonchalance, though his chest tied in a knot at her look of disapproval. He didn’t like to disappoint Mother, but honestly, she could do with a little lightening up, be a little more like himself and Father.
“What were you doing in here with Meg?” Mother asked.
“I already told you. I was merely speaking with her. Need I be hanged for conversing with an old friend?”
Mother did not send him another irritated look. Instead, she exchanged glances with Father. “So, you and Meg are…friends?”
“Of course she and I are friends.”
He looked between his parents. Father eyes were averted, Mother’s accusatory scowl missing.
“And there is nothing more between the two of you?”
He pulled in his chin. “More? Heavens, no.” Where on earth was this coming from? He leaned forward. “Are you well, Mother?”
She pursed her lips, placing her hands on her hips once more. “Yes, I simply wanted to be sure. Does Meg see you as only a friend, as well?”
“Of course she…does…” His words lost steam before he could finish them.
He and Meg had always been close, even when he’d left for Oxford at eighteen, three years before. But nothing romantic had ever occurred between the two of them. He was sure she did not love him. But then, had she not asked him for another dance? Had her eyes not lingered on him a moment longer than they usually did?
No, the idea was preposterous. They were friends. They always had been, and they always would be. Mother was simply putting false notions into his head.
He ran his fingers through his hair. “No, you may rest assured. Meg and I feel nothing for each other beyond a dear friendship.”
Mother stared at him, her expression unreadable until she nodded. “Very well. If that is true—”
“It is.”
“—then I see no reason for you to be speaking with her in such seclusion, risking her reputation as well as yours.”
He sniffed, brushing aside his mother’s concern. “You worry far too much. I assure you, no one would think twice of childhood friends speaking together as we do.”
“Prospective spouses might.”
“Well, it is fortunate then that I do not intend to marry. At least, not right now.”
He knew saying such words, though they were the truth, would upset his mother. She couldn’t understand the fact that he’d not found a woman yet with whom he wished to spend the rest of his time on earth. That, and he was far too comfortable with his simple, carefree life right now to change it. He was happy with school as it allowed him respite from his mother’s pestering. He was happy unmarried. He was happy without an estate to run. Mother would simply have to accept it.
Yet, she continued. “You do know your father and I will not be here forever, Matthew, do you not?”
Mr. Pratt chuckled. “Are you planning on either of us leaving this earth soon, my dear?”
“Of course not. I simply wish Matthew to take responsibility, to become the man he is supposed to be. To accept change when it comes. Even Louisa is doing her part, dancing with all the gentlemen this evening. She knows at twenty-one she ought to do her part to ensure she weds. Heavens, even Meg, three years younger, is doing better than Matthew.” She shook her head in clear frustration. “I have failed as a mother. Our only son does not wish to marry. To produce an heir for Hollridge, carry on the family name, help you with the estate. What have I done to have earned such a burden?”
“Now, now, my dear,” Father said with a warning glance to Matthew. “Matthew has said he does not intend to marry right now. We have every reason to have hope for the future. I’m certain as soon as he is finished with his education, he will also resume his place in helping me with the estate. As for now, you know I am more than capable and happy to continue on my own.”
“Exactly,” Matthew chirped in, which earned him another reprimanding glare from Mother. “I simply do not see the point in changing my way of life if I am happy with it. One day, I shall have all the responsibility you both have. Why not enjoy my freedom whilst I can?”
Mother brought her mask to her chin with the stick, rubbing the top of the disguise along her jawline as she stared at him.
An uneasiness skulked over him. His mother had never before held such a look of, well, plotting.
After another moment in silence, she finally spoke. “How about you and I make a little wager.”
“A wager?” Matthew’s brow lifted in surprise.
“I know how you enjoy them, a harmless bargain with very little risk.”
W
ith his interest piqued, Matthew glanced to Father, but he simply watched his wife with amusement.
Finally, Matthew agreed with a simple shrug. “Why ever not? What is it to be?”
“I promise to no longer pressure you to take a wife or to encourage you to help at Hollridge. In short, I will no longer interfere in your life.”
“Indeed?” Matthew could certainly agree to that prize. “And what must I do to incur such a gift?”
Her lips curved. “All you must do is meet with nine women of my choosing from Christmas to Twelfth Night.”
He narrowed his eyes. “And?”
“And, that is all. Apart from earnestly seeking to know each one of them as best you can.”
Ah, of course. Now he understood. His mother’s true plan was for him to fall in love with one of these women. Falling in love would force him to quit school, which in turn would bring him back to Hollridge where he would inevitably be drawn into taking over the estate.
Well, Mother would be disappointed. She may know him well enough to extend a challenge he could not refuse, but Mother, choose a wife for him? It was ludicrous.
Still, he would play her little game, if only for the fun of it. “Will not these nine women be upset if I show interest in one and then leave her for another the very next day?”
“No, I do not wish for you to hurt any of them, so you must seek to know them through words alone.”
She gave him a pointed look, and Matthew nearly blushed. She was warning him not to kiss any of them. He ought to be offended. He’d kissed a few willing women in his life, but he was no philanderer.
“Of course,” he said. “Through words alone.”
“Very good. Now one last requirement. This wager will not be spoken of between anyone else but the three of us. Agreed?”
Matthew nodded. “I can manage that. Though, if I may ask, why nine? Why not make it a nice even number?”
She used her mask to flick back a curl. “I’ve never been fond of even numbers. Besides, my lucky number at hazard is nine.”
Matthew pursed his lips then nodded. “Very well, Mother. I accept your wager.”
Mother tapped her cheek. “Then you may seal our agreement now.”
Matthew stepped forward and placed a kiss on her cheek.
“Now,” she said with a raised chin, “I will leave to ensure Meg and Louisa are enjoying themselves with the men who will dance this evening.”
With a curt nod, she turned, sharing a small smile with her husband before departing.
Matthew looked to his father, who remained behind. “You’ve been uncharacteristically quiet. Does that mean you disapprove of the wager?”
Father shrugged. “It wouldn’t matter either way. Once your mother decides upon something, there is no use attempting to convince her to do otherwise.”
Matthew blew out a breath. “She will be disappointed when I do not fall in love at the end of her little game. But I will be pleased to no longer have her pressuring me.”
Father raised a brow. “So you do not think it likely that you will fall in love?”
“I know that I will not.”
“So confident?” He clicked his tongue. “Your mother has always had the ability to read people well, son. And she has nine chances to find a woman who will be irresistible to you. I would be surprised if you don’t fall in love before Twelfth Night.”
Matthew barked out a laugh. “Ridiculous.”
“Shall we make it a little more interesting then?” His eyes glinted brightly. “If you do not fall in love with one of the nine women before you return to Oxford, I’ll fund your purchase of a new horse.”
Matthew rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger. A horse, now that was another prize worth fighting for. He grinned. “You have a deal, Father.” He extended his hand, pausing. “You will not be requiring a kiss, will you?”
“A handshake will do, son.”
They clasped hands, and Father stepped toward the ballroom. “Now, I must return to your mother’s side before I receive a scolding worse than what you’ve just suffered.” His chuckles filled the air as he disappeared around the corner.
Matthew adjusted his mask and moved closer to the ballroom, excitement simmering in his stomach.
What an excellent start to the holiday season this was turning out to be. He was away from the demands of university. He was reunited with his family, would be spending the holidays with Meg. And now, he would be winning his freedom from Mother, as well as a fine new horse from Father. Life just could not become any better.
With a deep, contented sigh, he absentmindedly watched the costumed dancers. His eyes found Meg in an instant as she danced with the squirrel, no doubt to save Louisa from the same fate twice.
His lips twitched at the sheer boredom on her face not even her mask could hide. He knew Meg enjoyed gentlemen who could keep up with her spry dancing, and the squirrel, frankly, could not. That was no doubt why she’d asked Matthew to dance again.
Well, he would sacrifice his dislike for the tedious pastime just this once, for the sake of his friend, and to make good on his deal.
After all, not even a lengthy reel could diminish his fine mood.
Chapter Two
Yorkshire
Meg stepped over the threshold of Hollridge House, striding out across the small landing. The brisk, morning air filled her lungs, nipping at her cheeks and fluttering the ringlets against her temples.
The musty scent of pine trees wafted toward her from the forest bordering the south side of the estate. She tried to draw in a deeper breath of the sharp aroma, but the thick air caught in her chest, the icy feeling spreading chills across her skin.
Her lips curled as she moved down the short steps of the house. This was what she’d been missing in London. The fresh air, void of smoke and soot. The silence of the countryside. The views of the green grass prohibited not by smog of factories and shops, but by the natural mist rising up over the hilltops.
More than anything, she’d longed for Hollridge House, a place far better than any exquisite townhome in London. She paused on the gravel drive, looking over her shoulder and sweeping her eyes across the home.
The blossom-red bricks stretched three stories tall with a brown roof and white columns at each corner. Ivy crawled along the left side of the house, and each window was bordered with ivory white frames. The house was not grand by any means, but the grounds were immaculately kept, the drapes were continuously parted, and the single front door to the house always appeared ready to open to friends and strangers alike.
How delighted Meg was to be back at the one place she truly considered home. Hollridge had always held far more of an appeal to her than her own house, Stoneworth Manor, with its gray edifice and narrow windows. The manor did not hold the same warmth and vivacity, no doubt due to its people.
Meg’s brow pulled together, but she brushed aside the gloomy thought. Nothing would dim her mood this morning. It was Christmas Eve, and the festivities would shortly begin—just as soon as Louisa could pry herself out of bed and join Meg outside.
She looked toward the closed door. Where was Louisa? They were supposed to fetch the greenery for the house that morning. Though, knowing her friend, she would still be piling on her warm clothing. Louisa didn’t find the cold as invigorating as Meg did.
An icy wind curved round the back of her neck, and she shivered, flipping the hood of her red cloak over her head. She peered up at the sky shrouded in thick, gray clouds. If they didn’t begin soon, the rain would start. Being cold was refreshing. Being wet and cold was unbearable.
A click near the house drew her attention to the opening door, and Louisa finally appeared in the entrance.
“There you are,” Meg greeted. “You have come not a moment too soon. We must hurry or the rain will set in, and…Why, whatever is the matter?”
Louisa moved across the landing, her lips drawn in a tight line. “That is what is the matter,” she said, tossing her head backw
ard.
Meg’s eyes moved to the doorway as Matthew exited the house, securing the door behind him. Her heart fluttered. “Are you to join us this morning?”
Her voice sounded far too hopeful. She sent a quick glance to Louisa. Meg hadn’t spoken to anyone about her growing feelings for Matthew just yet, and since she wasn’t certain how Louisa would react to such news, Meg thought it better to keep the information to herself for now.
“Yes, my mother has insisted,” Matthew responded. “She has decided to ‘leave the traipsing around in the cold to the younger people this year.’ Apparently, she still considers me a child while I am at home, so I must do her bidding.”
Meg tried very hard to quell her delight. “Well, I’m pleased you’ll be with us. We always do need another strong arm to help carry the baskets. Do we not, Louisa?”
Louisa folded her arms. “Yes, but must it be Matthew who helps us?”
Matthew sighed. “Oh, do calm down, Louisa. I was merely teasing you before.”
Meg glanced between them. “Are you two quarrelling again?”
“Louisa has taken offense at a mere joke I have made.”
Louisa moved to stand beside Meg, who watched the exchange with amusement. Usually, the twins were both jovial, especially during Christmastide, but four days confined in a carriage with a mercilessly teasing brother would set any sister on edge.
“Yes, a mere joke,” Louisa retorted, her chin high. “But, like all of your joking, it was lacking in humor.”
Matthew opened his mouth in mock horror. “I’ll have you know I take great offense to that.”
“Well, I meant it offensively.”
Meg glanced to Matthew. “What have you said to her this time?”
“Nothing at all.” His wink sent her insides fluttering each and every way, like a flurry of snowflakes in a soft wind.
“Do you truly think she will believe such a falsehood?” Louisa asked. “You cannot say a single word without teasing someone.”
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